


Look at you (Strawberry blonde)

by RowanRaven



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hypothermia, Loneliness, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27807715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowanRaven/pseuds/RowanRaven
Summary: Hornet leaves Pharloom after all is done, and the kingdom is freed from its strings.Lace finds herself racing across the plains, chasing the elusive red flare of Hornet.
Relationships: Hornet/Lace (Hollow Knight)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 89





	Look at you (Strawberry blonde)

Lace’s quarters were not by any means fantastic, or opulent, but they were much nicer than sleeping on the ground. When Lace opened the crooked door to it she found her things strewn across the room. The air inside was stale and smelled like spoiling musty clothes.

Lace strode across the room, kicking her broken things away from her path to open the window as wide as it would go.

“Pharloom didn’t take kindly to your betrayal then.” Hornet mumbled, pushing a ripped dress off of the bed so she could sit. She still had a slight limp from the final confrontation, and she sat with a heavy sigh.

“It’s not like you got away without a mark either.” Lace replied curtly. The devastation that swept through her room didn’t shock her, but it still hurt. It was done by her comrades, her siblings in arms. It was an intimate betrayal, the hurt deeper than just the wreckage of her things. The knowledge that her friends have done this without regard or question unsettled her in a visceral gut-wrenching way.

Hornet stretched out in her bed, still on top of all the covers. Lace kicked all the scraps of fabric and broken ceramics into a corner, out of sight. Even her hidden box of precious memories was wrecked, the mementos of fallen comrades broken and desecrated.

Her room no longer felt like the safe den she made it out through the years as she rose in the ranks. It was empty of the warm and safe air, and now it was just as bare and humid as any other parts of Pharloom. The only point of warmth was the red shape of Hornet in the frilly mess of Lace’s bed.

“Stay with me for a while. Pharloom needs guidance, and there’s space for you.” Hornet resolutely stared at the ceiling; her face impassive.

“I’m not sure, Lace. I have responsibilities waiting for me at home.” Lace laid down next to Hornet, before dragging one of her heavy quilts over top of both of them.

“You could stay just until you recover. I’m sure that your injury is still fresh. It’s easy to see how it pains you.” Hornet huffed a deep breath, her chelicerae moving as if she was chewing on the words stuck at the edge of said. She turned to Lace, half her face mushed into the pillows.

“It doesn’t matter.” Hornet barged over Lace’s affronted grumble. “It shouldn’t matter.”

“It does! You are in pain and forcing yourself to journey across the wastes in this state won’t lead to anywhere good. The wastes are wild-“

“I know exactly how wild and dangerous the wastes are! I came across them to here, or did you already forget?”

“All I’m saying is that you should rest! You need rest, you’re too weak to make the journey!” Hornet inhaled sharply, her eyes flashing to Lace. She tensed up like a coiled spring, before she turned towards the ceiling again. Lace could feel her fists balling up, before Hornet released a deep breath.

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow Lace. I’m tired.” Hornet’s voice was flat, forced quiet and calm.

Lace curled towards Hornet, an apology half-formed in her mouth. Hornet still faced the ceiling, tense as a wooden board.

The space between them seemed much wider than ever, even as it slowly filled with warm sleepy breaths. Still, Lace could sink into a deep, dreamless sleep trusting Hornet with her back.

Lace woke to an empty bed. Hornet’s side was empty and long gone cold, the frilly lace edged pillows still holding the shape of her sleeping head. Lace stretched, enjoying finally being able to wake up dry and warm. Pharloom was wretched and musty, and the humid air rose up in the tower up to her quarters sometimes. Dew sat at the edge of her window as she opened it up to see the golden sunrise.

The hills gleamed green in the light, their round heads bowing into mountains. Sleepy darkness pooled in their shadows, the dew of the stars still clinging to the long stalks of grass. The sun rose, peeking out from behind the mountains, edging them with flowing gold.

Lace squinted against the glare of the waking sun, a red dot just disappearing behind a foothill at the edge of the horizon. A surprisingly familiar red dot.

“ _Beetleshit,_ Hornet!” Lace turned and dashed to the door, her hand finding the handle of her pin as she dashed out from her room. She didn’t even turn to kick her door closed as she ran down and out from a spiralling tower of the citadel.

Courier bugs and nobles flinched away from her as she ran, their voices of concern rising up from behind her.

Lace ignored every last blasted bug, as she burst out to the main square. The crowd was much thinner there, and she ran straight towards the main gate.

“Is that Captain Lace?” The first few bugs recognised her as she ran.

“Our saviour?”

“Lace?” That was one of her comrades. Was it one that she fought against? One of the quietly rebelling ones? But she had no time, even as hands reached towards her. She needed to catch up with a slippery little weaver and make her take a break even if it will kill her.

“Lace!” Someone grabbed her arm as she ran past. She turned sharply at the contact, raising her pin to strike. “Lace, come on! It’s me, Sharpe!”

“Sharpe?” Sharpe let her arm drop and backed away, grinning a little nervously. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh me? I’m just hoping to find my captain-mate!” Lace froze, the nervousness beating a staccato of losing time against her thoughts.

“Sharpe, spit it out what you want before I run you through. I have no time.” Sharpe nodded, his head bouncing a little.

“Can’t I just say hello to an old friend?”

“The last time you said “hello” I was ambushed. Pardon me for being a little tetchy about it now. I’ll ask you one last time. What. Do you. Want?” Lace lowered her pin but kept it at hand. She wouldn’t trust Sharpe as far as she could throw him.

“Look, Lace I know you are chasing the Weaver Princess. I can’t let you go. We need you here.” Lace snorted, and took a step back, keeping well out of Sharpe’s range. Sharpe continued on, his voice speeding up, urgency overtaking him. “We need to rebuild. You were a good captain. We need good captains here. We need them now. We don’t need the Princess.”

“You didn’t need me before the hunt, and you didn’t need me during the revolution. In fact, I seem to remember you chasing me down specifically. Pardon my scepticism, but I don’t think you’ll need me now.” Lace slowly took a few more steps backwards. Sharpe seemed determined to talk her into staying, but the attention of other bugs made her tense. She didn’t have time to waste.

“Lace!” Sharpe growled and marched closer. Lace put her pin up, aiming straight between his eyes. “Alright, alright. There’s no need for that. Put your pin down, we’ll talk.”

“No. And I won’t listen to you anymore. Pharloom might be your home but it is no longer mine. See you never, Sharpe.” Lace turned on her heel and bolted, sprinting as hard as her bruised carapace let her. Sharpe’s indignant shouts got swallowed by the bustle of the square quickly enough.

Lace ran, then walked then ran, as fast as her legs would allow. Her claws holding her pin grew tired, and her grip slipped, but she refused to let it fall. She would need a weapon to approach the wilderness, but she was still regretful that she didn’t grab her pin sheath.

Lace crossed the first foothill by midday, and she barely stopped to scout the horizon. Hornet had a significant advantage on her, and she was quicker than Lace too.

Lace wanted so badly to look back at the gilded city of Pharloom. It’s looming shadow of twisting towers and arching elegant spires almost touched her. It’s golden shining memory of half-forgotten family and friends hurt like yesterday’s ache. She wanted to look back, to just wave goodbye to it, just like before when she was sent on patrol.

She had no time to waste with dallying.

The mountains floated unmoving in the approaching dusk. Lace had been walking the whole day, and she still couldn’t see any trace of Hornet. Her legs ached, and she had to lean on her pin for support at every step. Still, she marched on, determined. Hornet couldn’t have such a big lead.

The early parts of the wastes were filled with prey, so Lace ate well, possibly even better than during the climb of Pharloom.

Each day the mountains moved closer and closer, and soon Lace was treading their rocky paths instead of the lush green rolling hills. Lace followed Hornet’s footsteps, tracking her path. Sometimes it was an old campfire, long gone cold with the wind kicking ash everywhere; sometimes it was the remnants of a successful hunt.

The way grew steeper as Lace approached the mountain pass. The trail joined one of the wider roads, although it was startlingly empty of traders. Winter was soon approaching, and the mountain weather was unpredictable at the best of times.

Lace’s makeshift supplies dwindled quickly, and she found herself struggling to light a fire one cold evening. She shivered as the icy wind cut through her, ignoring the thin barrier of her clothes. They were meant for the warm climate of Pharloom, and the chill carried by the wind didn’t seem to care for the expensive silk that Lace paid good money for.

“Come on, light up, you bastards.” Lace’s hands shook so bad that she almost dropped her flint. Any sparks it made the wind took them and spun up. She gave up with a frustrated huff. She would rather save the rest of the flint for a less futile campfire.

She curled up in the corner of the rocky refuge she found, only a few steps away from the wide road. It seemed a popular stop for past travellers, although she couldn’t see any remnants of Hornet’s careful campcraft. One corner was heaped with discarded garbage, and the rest of the nook wasn’t much better either. Lace tried to make herself into as tight of a ball as possible while still having her pin in easy reach.

She fell into an uneasy slumber, just as light as she would have slept in the barracks of Pharloom. It wasn’t unusual to find someone dead by the morning, the unaware soldiers proved easy pickings for aspiring new assassins.

Or vagabonds.

Lace woke with a start when a rock slipped in the road. She sprung up, alert and watchful, her pin already in hand.

The would-be robber froze, a wicked curved blade in his claws. He grinned, an awful display of mandibles, as he lifted the knife.

“Come on, little lady. It’s no time for the pretty ones to be out on the road like this. I don’t want to hurt you, but that pin would fetch a good price. Trade you?”

“I’ll trade with you alright!” Lace attacked, quicker than the other bug expected. He was much larger than Lace, and he looked like he knew how to use his dagger. His intimidating stature must have made it easy for him to rob the clueless travellers blind.

Lace however was an ex-captain of the guard in Pharloom, and she had fought plenty of beetles bloated by their own egos in her time.

The beetle parried with a surprised grunt. Lace twisted away and stabbed again before he even had time to recover. He grunted as the pin pierced his carapace but it was tough, and the pin caught.

Lace wrenched her pin free as the beetle staggered from the sudden pain. She danced closer, her feet silent and sure, before she whacked him with the flat of her pin. With a smooth motion she swept his feet out from under him, and her would-be robber was flat on his back, groaning in pain.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Lace echoed him, her face splitting in a grin “how about we trade?” The beetle whimpered in pain, as Lace walked closer. “As you can see I’m a fragile young lady on a long journey. How about you leave your cloak and knife, and maybe I’ll let you walk away?”

“Eat dirt!” The beetle grunted and tried to roll over. Lace stabbed one if his arms with her pin, and leant over on the top of it to force the tip through. The beetle screamed and struggled, almost pushing Lace off of him, but she held on.

“Come on now,” Lace heaved the words, the struggle quickly draining her strength. “Let’s be rational. I’ll trade your arm for that cloak! Does that sound like a fair trade?”

The beetle nodded, and Lace wrenched her pin free. It tore at the carapace and the beetle wailed as it scratched against the raw open carapace.

The beetle undid his cloak clasp, his claws wet and slippery with fresh haemolymph. Lace watched impassively as he took his travel cloak and knife and placed it on the ground.

“Go on, scram” Lace hefted her pin, as the beetle backed away. She watched his shadow until it disappeared down in the road.

She waited an extra heartbeat before grabbing the fabric bundle and quickly walking the opposite direction. She shouldn’t have let him go, but she was tired, and she doubted she could have got up if a blow landed.

Lace wrapped the travelling cloak around her shoulders, and it was wonderfully warm. The knife was sturdy, and it came with a handy holder. The pockets of the cloak were filled with supplies, food, and lockpicks, as well as a handful of jewellery. It seemed the bug had had a successful hit already.

Lace shifted through the pockets as she walked. There was a larger flint and steel, and a few cubes of firelighters, straight from Pharloom. She laughed in relief. No more icy nights without a fire for a while.

Reaching and crossing the mountain pass was quick work, now that Lace didn’t have to battle with the cold as well as the steep path. Hornet seemed further and further away now. Her campsites would be days old by the time Lace reached them. It was disheartening, but Lace kept on.

She didn’t want to turn back.

Some nights when the winds howled louder than her thoughts she didn’t even remember where she was supposed to turn back. She marched on, even when she missed the signs of Hornet, when she didn’t even know any direction except forward.

The wastes were empty, but the winter’s grip was weaker on the plains. Lace doubted there were even seasons other than the dry horrible wind, but she didn’t plan to find out. She wanted to reach Hornet before winter stalked down from the mountains. She felt the cold nip at her heels sometimes, and her plan seemed a little less likely every day.

Lace’s supplies dwindled quickly, and without prey and materials she could barely make camp. She more often went without a fire, hoping that she would still wake up in the chill dawn with her carapace intact, to move forward one more day.

One dawn was much chiller than usual, the sky sparkling with sharp little crystals that burned the carapace they touched. Lace squinted against the brightness, wrapping herself tighter into the big cloak. The wind slowly picked up, chasing heavy grey clouds slowly across the sky.

The pink light quickly vaned as the wind picked up more and more. Lightning crackled across the sky, lining the first flakes of snow in an otherworldly light. The wind was almost unbearable, and Lace found herself struggling for every step. She shivered and shook so strong that she could barely keep her eyes open, her muscles tensing against the cold.

The storm hit, and the world went white.

The monotone landscape turned featureless and so bright, Lace could barely see. She slowed, trying to keep to the path but it rapidly disappeared under the fresh soft snow.

Every step was a barely manageable obstacle, her gasping breaths and quick heartbeat pushing a staccato of beat against her carapace. She needed to stop. She will get lost in the storm if she doesn’t stop. There was no-one waiting for her in the empty fields, and there was no end goal to chase. Lace stumbled to a stop, her legs freezing and seizing up.

She was alone, lost, and cold. And so, so tired.

The snow looked so comfortable. It looked like a mound of pillows and blankets, perfect for hiding under. She’ll lay down just for a second, just for a moment. Just a moment of sleep, just a blink.

Lace crumpled. The snow piled up around her, melting into her collar and the water soaked her through. It ran down in rivulets freezing in her joints, but Lace couldn’t feel it anymore.

“Lace!” Someone shouted. “Lace!!”

Something flashed red. Lace jerked awake. It was…

“Hornet?” Lace croaked, her voice breaking, barely a whisper. “Hornet, wait. Hold on, I need to… I need to apologise.” Lace tried to stand, but her shaky legs barely held her up. Her pin was almost too hot to touch but she leant on the metal anyway. Hornet. Hornet was here, and she needed to… She needed to…

Hornet was barely a red blotch against the bleak whiteness of the snow. Lace cursed, trembling as she unpinned her cloak. It was too hot and too cumbersome to wear. She needed to catch up.

“Lace! Come here, come closer”

“H-Hornet.” Lace couldn’t see her anymore. “Hornet just. Just wait a second, please. Please I’m so-sorry. Hornet, please.”

Lace stumbled into a deep snowdrift, the white fluff suddenly coming up to her chest. Why wasn’t Hornet answering? Where was she?

Lace woke slowly. She could barely make out the low ceiling of a travel shelter, and her limbs were so heavy she could barely move. She was wrapped up in numerous blankets, some of them a scratchy wool from the aphids and caterpillars from the north. It was so warm, it was almost uncomfortable, and her claws seemed to have been bound; but she had all of them, thank the stars.

There was an unfamiliar voice droning in the back of the cave.

Lace tensed, sleep escaping her grasp as the voice kept up a low, soothing murmur. Lace turned her head to see the crouching figure of a chubby beetle, tending to a low fire. She blindly grabbed towards her needle, but her claws found nothing but air. Her heart jumped to her throat, as she kept her eye on the unfamiliar bug. She might prove herself a danger, and Lace had no way of defending herself.

The beetle at the fire turned to her and gasped seeing her awake.

“Oh, oh I’m sorry! Here, let me help you sit!” The beetle jumped closer, but Lace hissed, pushing herself upwards.

“Don’t come any closer!” Lace growled, her arms shaking with the effort of keeping her up. “Stay away!” The beetle retreated, her arms held up, showing that they were empty.

“Alright, alright. There’s no need for fighting. I’m Bretta. I’m here to help” Lace’s arms trembled as she collapsed back to the bedding.

“I don’t need your help” Lace rolled to keep an eye on Bretta, who, to her credit, kept to the other side of the fire.

Lace was tense as a string for the whole night. Bretta has soon nodded off at the other side of the fire, but Lace knew that it was only a light sleep of the travellers. If you were unobservant on the road, its punishment came swiftly.

Lace couldn’t sleep. Even the quick fly-naps she got used to in the city guard evaded her. Bretta’s calm breathing was grating on her ears, and the warmth of the cave was almost suffocating. The forced stillness of the blankets wrapped around her only allowed her thought to race faster.

Lace knew she should at least _try_ sleeping but it proved impossible. With a startling though she realised the last time she slept well was in Pharloom, with Hornet next to her.

Even in the deep belly of Pharloom, Hornet’s presence brought safety. Lace never met someone as vigilant as herself, before Hornet. Hornet was tense like a string, and Lace had to fight the urge to poke her sometimes, just to see if she could feel her vibrate. She didn’t think it would be possible to miss someone she knew for such a short time so much, but it pained her as much as the lance Sharpe thrust into her back.

The night crawled by, and Lace lay, shivering under the scratch blankets, stubbornly not thinking about Hornet in the early lights of dawn.

Bretta was up with the sun, and piling sticks on the fire to reawaken its flames. Lace laid facing her and the fire, although the warmth was almost uncomfortable on her face. Bretta made no move to approach her, as she walked around the cave, searching through her pack.

“I’m going to get some snow from outside” Bretta said, her voice still cheerful. “I’ll have to go to the other side of the fire to go outside. It will only take a second.” Lace nodded, and Bretta gave a relieved grin.

After she filled the pot and placed it next to the fire, she opened up a leather-bound journal, and then the cave grew quiet. Bretta was completely engrossed in her notes, a worn silver-grey quill fluttering in her claws.

Lace sat up, pushing her back towards the wall of the cave, taking stock. She could see her thin pack and her pin in a corner just outside of her reach and her stolen cloak was folded underneath her head to serve as a pillow.

“Oh! Are you feeling better?” Bretta asked as her quill stilled in her hand “I’ll make something for you to eat. We’re stuck in here for a while, at least until the snow clears a little.”

“Why are you helping me?” The question just slipped out of Lace, and Bretta froze. She crumpled the paper that was in her hands, as she took a trembling breath. She avoided Lace’s eyes as she started to prepare a thin broth.

“It’s… well, I know how it is when no-one helps you.” She crushed a handful of dried meat and oats into the boiling water, keeping her head down. “I also know how something as little as a helping hand can lift you up.” Bretta poured some of the thin broth into a cup and slowly, showing her other hands, gave it to Lace.

“Thank you” Lace mumbled into the cup. Bretta just gave her wide smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

It took three restless days for the snow to melt just enough that Bretta could take more than a few steps outside. It took even longer for Lace to recover enough to move around. The cold was still biting, and she found herself less resistant to it, a constant shiver settling in her carapace. Still, through shivering and dropping her things multiple times, Lace gathered her pack, with Bretta busying herself with packing too.

“I’m not letting you go alone” Bretta said, as an explanation. Lace re-folded her threadbare blanket, before shoving it into her pack again.

“I’m not asking you to.” Lace pointed out, a little angry that Bretta has invited herself along.

“You’re not, but the nearest kingdom here is where I’m hailing from, and I think some company might do you good.” Lace snorted, as she hefted her bag and grabbed her pack.

“If it’s in the way, I will stop by for a few days to buy supplies. But I’m not staying. I need to find someone, and I fear with every second she’s getting farther and farther away from me.”

“Well then” Bretta said, stepping out into the blinding white, “Let’s not waste any more time.”

Bretta was surprisingly quick, ploughing ahead, and feeling for a path. Lace ducked her head against the glare of the snow, supporting her steps with her pin.

The round hills of a kingdom’s border rose dark and foreboding against the horizon, but nightfall swallowed the hazy outline up quickly. Bretta and Lace made camp quickly under a sheltered outcrop of rocks. Bretta shared her rations generously, piling not only hot oatmeal but dried meat and fruits into a cup for Lace. They ate quickly, hungrily and the evening meal passed in silence only broken by the scrape of utensils against the dishes.

“Who are you looking for?” Bretta broke the sleepy quiet, staring into the fire. Lace sat quietly, turning the question over in her mind.

Hornet was more than a friend. She was more than her comrades even. Lace knew that Hornet would never betray her, and that she missed her more and more every passing blink. It was almost comical. She was away from her people, away from the kingdoms she was raised to serve, and the only thing she could think about is the bright crimson flare of Hornet’s cloak, her bright voice, and the fuzzy palm of hers against Lace’s cheek.

“She’s… She’s the most important person to me. She’s… safety and warmth, and she’s the only person I can trust not to turn on me. I just want to see if she made the journey safe.And then, if she wants me to, I’ll leave.” Bretta made a sound, halfway disbelieving. “And what are you doing out in the wastes during winter, anyway?”

“Oh, me?” Bretta sounded surprised, before a slow smile spread across her face “I was collecting stories! The kingdom up North is only accessible over winter when the Narrow Sea freezes over!” She dove into her pack, and pulled out her thick journal, and turned an open page to face Lace. “Look! This one is about the Winter Lady! It’s a local legend, I suspect it’s an older Higher Being that established the kingdom! And this one is of the Springbringer, the deity to the hanging gardens! There were so many songs and stories, I can’t wait to compare notes!” Bretta’s face was flushed, and Lace suspected it was not from the fire burning in the nook. She crawled closer to Lace and showed her some notes.

Her handwriting was tiny and neat, and the illustrations that crowded onto the margins were simple, and to the point. Lace listened, and she couldn’t help but get dragged into Bretta’s enthusiasm as she told story after myth, touching on the bugs that lived in the caverns at the border, the nomadic floater caravans that stuck to living on the sea, and through it all, she brightened the air around herself.

“We should arrive soon” Bretta said a few days later. Her pack was shrinking quickly, but her unrelenting enthusiasm was infectious, and even Lace found it hard to worry about running out of food.

“I can’t wait to finally sleep in a proper bed” Lace sighed, a little wistful. Bretta giggled at her expression.

“I’m sure Elderbug is more than happy to lend you one of the old houses. They all mostly have all the blankets you would need.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Elderbug is always keen on newcomers, although be vary, he likes to chatter, and before you know it, whoosh! The day’s gone by!”

They climbed the last hills to the entrance of a yawning cave, sharing good-natured chatter. Lace was aching everywhere, and she was very much looking forward to wrapping herself up in whatever old bedclothes the town bugs could spare her. Bretta was impatient as well, her steps speeding up as they got closer and closer to the border.

“Halt!” A shrill voice called out, and Lace felt herself freeze, as if lightning struck her. Bretta craned her neck upwards, and called out, but Lace couldn’t hear it from the rushing in her ears.

It couldn’t be.

Hornet’s red cloak flared as she rappelled down from an alcove and landed right in front of Lace. She evaded Bretta as she tried to stop her in her tracks, her arms up and out, trying to shield Lace behind her.

“Hornet?” Lace’s voice cracked, although she would deny it until her deathbed. Her knees went weak as Hornet swept her up in an embrace so tight it was almost crushing. Lace could see Bretta’s dumbstruck face as she slowly lowered her arms, before Lace buried her face in Hornet’s collar.

“What are you doing here?” Hornet was disbelieving, but Lace was solid in her arms, even though she was even more scarily thin than in Pharloom.

“I needed… I needed to see you. I couldn’t let you go without a proper goodbye.” Lace was let down, but Hornet still kept her hands on her shoulders and arms, as if she was scared to let Lace slip through her grip.

“But you wanted to stay there!” Hornet’s voice was shrill “In Pharloom! And! I left you a letter!” She gasped between the sentences.

“No, you didn’t” Lace shook her head. “There was no letter anywhere I could see.” Not that she had looked, of course.

“I left it with that captain! Sharpy?”

“Sharpe.” Lace grit his name out, spitting it like the dirt it was. “He didn’t want to let me go.” Hornet slowly released her shoulders, but still kept her hands clasped in hers. Lace found that she didn’t mind.

“He was the one I ran into” Hornet mumbled, the realisation of his betrayal slowly dawning on her. “I told him that I’ll be back soon. I just needed to see my siblings.”

“I didn’t know that. I couldn’t bear to see you disappear into the wastes” Lace said, suddenly feeling the months long trek in her carapace. “You are one speedy little spider.” Hornet grinned and shrugged, a little bashful.

“I rappelled through most of the wastes. It’s steep enough that it took me a week or two to fly through.”

“Damn the winds, of course” Lace mumbled. “So, is this where they grow the fierce spider princesses?" Hornet turned them both towards the end of the cave, where an impressive gateway arched. Lace flexed her claw in Hornet’s grip, but neither of them let go.

“Welcome to Hallownest.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was 5k of me vibing to Strawberry Blonde by Mitski. I am gay. I am yearning.
> 
> Soundtrack:  
> Strawberry blonde by Mitski  
> Sky full of song by Florence and the Machine  
> Shrike by Hozier  
> Like Real People Do by Hozier
> 
> (Even tho they don't even kiss)


End file.
